Last year someone abandoned a puppy near my property. The dog wasn't even ready to be weened when I brought her in. I didn't realize that she was a nigger dog until she grew a bit. She grew into a genetic freak of a destruction machine on four legs.
Four days ago she drew blood from Mrs.Ozark's hand, that was a step too far. The wife said she wanted to "re-home" the dog but I didn't think that would be a good idea until she found a childless couple that wanted her. The childless couple were flakes that kept dragging their feet.
Today at noon I pulled two three-inch buckshots out of my desk and grabbed "shaniqua-the-shotgun" and headed towards Death Valley(the place where I put dead animals). The dog followed me and I did what was needed.
The dog's name was Lenny and as in the book, Lenny taught me a real life lesson. I am not a mouse. When it is needed I can methodically plan and execute, even if it hurts my heart to do so. It was just coincidence that her name was Lenny, I named her after a song.
Special_Prosecutor 15 points 2.4 years ago
Good, Saved someone from being mauled.